Slap Goes the Water
A heron shoots a glassy eye
keeps fishing by doing nothing.
Oars slap water.
An early sun crashes through the mist
intent on warming eggs in lakeside nests.
Slap go the oars, a clunky-swoosh,
a white wake burbling.
If I row very slowly
it will be a few minutes before breakfast.
You will be dishing a trout onto a buttery plate.
Elsewhere, a silver fish
swims down a blue herons throat
slip slapping all the way.
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